


The Strawberry Swing

by LondonLibertine



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coffee Shops, F/M, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonLibertine/pseuds/LondonLibertine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ward gets partnered with Simmons while on a mission in London, and she shares with him an old London treasure - the Strawberry Swing Cafe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strawberry Swing

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy piece about a pairing I love so much - BioSpecialist. I loved writing this, and I hope you love reading it! Title from the Coldplay song.

“Coulson, I swear to god, let me go undercover”

Agent Grant ward was getting increasingly frustrated as he pleaded to Coulson. They were working a mission in London; a local had hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D secure data base and accessed files on the Tesseract. Skye and May had been assigned to go undercover at a Gaming convention that they had tracked the hackers signal to.

Ward believed he was the obvious choice for field work; he had almost as much experience as May. But no, Coulson had told him to lay low with Simmons while she ran facial recognition software with the convention’s security footage. Fitz would be staying on the plane with Coulson, working on a new gun for sky: one that would respond to her voice commands, as they couldn’t have her always mixing up the safety switch with the magazine release.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to partner with Simmons. God, he would have loved to partner with her, but she was distracting. He found it hard to concentrate on the mission around her, his eyes would always stray to hers; he would find himself observing the minor details of her, the way she smiled, the way her eyes glinted when she found some new alien goo to stick her fingers in.

“Listen, Ward” Coulson was getting impatient now, his voice a broken record “May is more experienced with combat, Skye basically WAS this hacker guy, she would be more use than any of us in picking him out in a crowd. Fitz is the engineer; he needs to be making Skye that gun. There is no way I’m leaving Simmons alone; we have each other’s back in this team. Plus how am I supposed to oversee a mission from an internet café in London?”

Grant wanted to protest, but he knew that Coulson had a point. Sighing, he made his way to the lab where Simmons was waiting with a shoulder bag and a laptop. She smiled sheepishly, shy.

“Sorry for, you know, not being trusted on a mission alone” She said.

Ward gave her a steady look. He noticed that when Simmons was with Fitz she was much more confident with the group, but with just the two of them, she was much more reserved.

“Right” Ward started awkwardly, “so, I guess we should get going then”

Two hours later the duo was en route to Picadilly Circus, a safe distance from the convention as not to arouse suspicion but still close enough for Ward to backup May and Skye if need be. The unassuming London cab dropped them off on the busy street, and Simmons looked around with a content smile.

“God, I’ve missed this place” She says, turning to Ward.

Ward is confused for a few seconds before he remembers. Simmons grew up here; this was her home.

“I forgot you came from London” He admits.

Simmons laughs, “Where do you think this accent came from?”

She looks around once more and frowns. He had noticed too: how were they supposed to find enough space to set up their equipment in the crowded cafés of London?

Grant looks toward Simmons for direction to see her eyes light up. She always does that when she has an idea.

“I know a place!” She grins and takes off; leading Ward passed the tourists, commuters and shoppers, past the tube station and into a side street. Here it is less crowded, but still has a steady trickle of shoppers. Down another back road, and here it is virtually empty, just the backs of stores.

“uh, Simmons, I don’t think there is anything here but old crates…”

She stopped and gave him a look that quite clearly said: _I have lived here for most of my life don’t patronise me you emotionless robot,_ before continuing. As they came to the end of the old lane, Ward saw a small shop, lit with fairy lights around the window and a sign above the green painted door that said “The Strawberry Swing”.

Simmons smiled at him, and the fairy lights played with the shadows across her face in the dark alley way. She did look beautiful, Grant noticed, she looked in her element. She looked down shyly and opened the green wooden door; bells tinkle announcing their presence.  

Ward’s first thought was the smell. The café smelled of coffee and old books and chocolate. It was so different from the places he usually inhabited: cold cafeterias or overcrowded Starbucks. No, this was a gem. The room was small, only 3 tables and an old couch were placed on the wooden floor. The counter took up half of the room, with stools lining the outside and various beverage-making contraptions crammed onto the bench. The walls were exposed brick, and had pictures of famous English writers such as Robert Browning and Thomas Hardy (most of which Ward did not recognise). The café was empty except for an old, red cheeked man who stood behind the counter. He looked up in surprise when the agents walked in.

“Jem?” 

A wide grin split across Simmons’ face.

“Hey Rupert!”

The old man squeezed through the small opening between the counter and the wall and crushed Simmons in a rib-cracking bear hug. She laughed, embarrassed, and pulled away.

“It’s so good to see you! What’re you doin’ back in this ol’ place, huh?” His warm brown eyes flicked from the girl to Ward, then back. She seemed to remember that Ward was there.

“Oh, right, yes. Rupert, this is agent Grant Ward. Grant, this is Rupert Moran. I used to come here all the time” Simmons introduced the two men, and they shook hands, a little awkwardly on Ward’s part. Rupert gave him a warm smile.

“We need a place to work, we’re on a mission” Simmons explained and Rupert gave her a knowing smile.

“All right love, why don’t you set up in the back? Would you like something to drink?”

Simmons gave Ward a questioning look, and he shrugged stiffly. She took to ordering for him. “Just 2 Earl Greys thanks, Rupert”

As the aged shop owner bustled around at the counter, Simmons led the apparently uncomfortable S.H.I.E.L.D agent to another door. He didn’t notice it at first; it was painted the same dull red colour of the brick walls, and was at the back of the café. When she opened the door, Grant was hit with the same old book smell that he noticed before, only stronger. The door opened straight onto what seemed to be a corridor of books. Two floor-to-ceiling book shelves created a walkway, albeit a small one. Books were crammed haphazardly onto the shelves, piled on each other;  Paper backs, hard backs, text books and novels, all sorts of literature was collected on the shelves. The lighting came from fairy lights (similar to those in the shopfront) dangling from the ceiling.

They made their way to the end of the book-corridor where it opened into a room with 2 round tables, each with 2 chairs and books stacked on them. 2 large lamps stood in the corners of the room, giving a natural looking light, despite the lack of windows. Looking back towards the book-corridor, Grant noticed that the room contained 2 other book-corridors parallel to the one leading back to the main café. One of these lead to a blue door, the other had a young looking man perusing the shelves.

He took a large leather bound tome from the shelf and put it in his leather satchel. When he spotted Simmons, his eyes lit up in recognition. He squeezed out from the shelves and gave her an awkward, one armed hug.

“hey Jem” He had a thick Scottish accent. Simmons seemed to know him quite well, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He was a real geek-chic type, tweed jacket and button down shirt. Something about him rubbed Ward the wrong way, he just didn’t know why.

“Oh, um, this is Grant Ward. We work together.” Ward made no move to shake the man’s hand, so they both stood apart.

“ Name’s Jack. I went to university with Jemma” He explained. There was an awkward silence before Jack continued. “So, um I should be going now, books to read, Doctor Who episodes to watch. So, I’ll call you sometime?” He gave Simmons a hopeful look, and she smiled.

“ok, Jack”

Ward gave a curt nod when Jack took his leave. Simmons sighed and set her equipment up on one of the round tables. To be honest, Ward didn’t know what half of the wires and contraptions did. The computer booted up and she opened the facial recognition software. She connected to a live feed from the gaming convention’s security cameras. When she finished, Simmons turned to Ward.

“You might as well sit down or something, this will take a while.”

Grant took a seat opposite the young biochemist and leaned his elbows on the table. He pulled out his gun and started pulling it apart and putting it back together, cleaning it. Rupert came in carrying two cups of steaming tea and placed them in front of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

“Here you go – oh!” He looked down at Ward’s gun in surprise, and Grant quickly put it away.

“Sorry”

Rupert looked at Simmons in disapproval. “I don’t know if I like you working with guns, Jemma, it’s dangerous…”

He went back to the front room, muttering under his breath about Americans and their damn guns. Simmons looked at Ward apologetically.

“Sorry, he’s just not used to it” She explained. Seemingly bored, she stood and made her way to the nearest book shelf. “to be honest, this facial recognitions stuff is kind of a long shot. It only helps us if our hacker is known by S.H.I.E.L.D”

Ward tentatively took a sip of his tea, curious. “I’ve never had tea before” he admitted.

Simmons turned back in surprise. “What! Never?”

Ward was surprised he actually said that out loud. He stifled the awkwardness with another sip. He watched her take books off the shelf and study the blurbs. She had the same look on her face as she did conducting experiments. She looked like she had spent many times examining the shelves for a good read, she probably had, Ward reasoned.

“So, Simmons, does Fitz know about this placed?” He asked. He didn’t know why, but he wished that Fitz didn’t know about The Strawberry Swing’s existence.

“No, just you” She answered, still pouring over the book shelf. A few moments later, she turned to Ward with a frown. “Oh, and no more of this ‘Simmons’ stuff, my name’s Jemma”

“right” he was startled, she was not usually this direct, “ok… Jemma”

“that’s better!” She smiled and came back to the table with a stack of books. She placed them carefully next to her computer, then jumped a little when it gave a little beep.

“Oh! We’ve got a match!” Jemma looked at the screen excitedly. Grant rose from his chair and stood behind Jemma, leaning over her chair. He could smell her lavender perfume.

“David Canterbury, 28, from Ireland. Arrested 3 years ago for hacking into the Pentagon’s systems. He escaped last year and no one has heard from him since!” she started clicking and typing and the info was sent to May’s smart phone.

“Well, that was lucky” Grant said, a hint of a smile playing across his face as he saw how happy Jemma was to finish the mission. She was still relatively new to this sort of work; she was used to doing research in her lab, but now she could use her scientific know-how to save people. That was more rewarding than her research.

Grant noticed that he had been holding eye contact with  Jemma for longer than what is socially acceptable, so he took to calling Coulson for an update. Simmons started to pack away her equipment, folding everything neatly into her shoulder bag.

“Sky and May have eyes on Canterbury, they’re about to make an arrest.” Grant informed Jemma, who had been waiting a little impatiently for an update.

“Right-o then, best be off” Simmons sighed, reluctant to leave what had once been her safe-haven. She picked up her stack of books, and struggled to keep them balanced while slinging her bag over her shoulder. Sensing her struggle, Ward scooped the books up in his arm, his hands brushing hers lightly. Simmons blushed and muttered a thank you.

A thought struck ward. “Jemma, how are you going to pay for these?”  There were at least 10 heavy novels piled in his arms, and she mentioned earlier that she didn’t like to carry lots of money with her.

“Oh, no, that’s not how it works!” She smiled, “you just take anything that interests you, as long as you donate something the next time you visit.”

Grants eyes widened- this truly was an amazing café. He wished he could have stayed longer, he could appreciate good literature, he simply did not have the time for reading. But Coulson wanted them back on the jet. So after saying their warm goodbyes to Rupert (and after Ward purchased a box of Earl Grey tea bags – he really had acquired the taste) they walked back to the main street and hailed a cab back to where the jet had landed.

Grant came to lab with Simmons, and dropped her books on the clearest desk he could find.  There was an awkward moment before Ward said: “Look, Jemma, I, um, had a really good day.”

Jemma smiled her wide, eye crinkling smile, “Me too Grant”.

Ward took his leave, and went to write his mission report.

* * *

Later that night, at about eleven o’clock, Ward left the training area and went back to his room. He always went to bed after everyone else and woke up at the crack of Dawn. He only really needed four hours. When he got to his room, however, there was a package waiting for him in front of the door. Picking it up, he found it was an old and battered copy of Ian Fleming’s _Casino Royale_. Opening it, he found a post-it note with the message:

_Thought of you – JS_

Grant smiled and chuckled under his breathe. He took the book to the lounge room, and read until he fell asleep. 


End file.
